


One Trek Mind

by Regarklipop



Category: One Direction (Band), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:25:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regarklipop/pseuds/Regarklipop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn might not be the best fit for Star Fleet Academy, but he'll give it his best shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stardate 2312.112

**Author's Note:**

> This will probs be chaptered, but the quasi-oneshot thing is also a good method of getting these out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Space: the final frontier. It was also a frontier that Zayn Malik had never in his life desired to visit.

“To the passengers aboard this Starfleet shuttle, welcome to Starfleet Academy.”

Zayn is dragged kicking and screaming to wakefulness as the spacecraft makes its final descent into San Francisco. He blinks owlishly at the Green Orion sitting next to him, noticing a stylish watch on their wrist. He looks up at them, and finding them staring back he croaks out:

“What 'ime is 't?” They chuckle.

“Just past eleven in the morning. That flight knocked you right out didn't it?” Zayn would love to search his bag for anything to freshen his breath with, but his bag is stored over-head and he won't take his harness off for love nor money.

“I took the strongest sleeping drugs available for this flight” Zayn grimaces when the Orion laughs at him again.

“Aviophobia?” Zayn grudgingly nods.

“And you're entering Starfleet? Desperate then? I'm Jesy by the way,” She holds out a hand and Zayn tentatively takes it. She smiles widely and Zayn finds himself smiling back.

“Zayn, and yeah, pretty desperate. Apparently I plan every detail for most things in my life, but when I decide to take risks I join Starfleet with no clue as to which track to go into, a fear of flying and space, and an aversion to transporters.” Jesy's grin is a mile wide.

“Well, you definitely shouldn't go into security, I mean, you'd look great in red, but don't do security. Do you have a taste for engineering?” Zayn's not sure, but Jesy must take his look of uncertainty as a look of imminent melt-down.

“Don't worry about it! That's what these six weeks of summer classes are for. See who washes out first and get us all sorted into our appropriate colours and such.” She winks at him.

“I'm hoping for Xeno-linguistics personally. Considering how many Ur'eon pirates Starfleet encounters, I'm basically a necessity” she frowns a little.

“Although I do wish I knew my language a bit better. It's hard when you're born on earth, you either never learn it or you lose it.” Zayn nods in sympathy.

“I learned Urdu when I was younger, but I speak it so rarely that I'm afraid I've” he's interrupted by the gentle thud of the shuttle landing. The resulting chaos of untrained cadets unbuckling their harnesses and reaching for bags reminds Zayn that this will be his life for the next four years unless he washes out. He looks at Jesy again and she seems to be going through the same thought process as he is. He jumps when her hand curls around his.

“Even if we don't speak again after this, we can both say that we got each other through today.” She grips his hand tightly before letting go and releasing the catch on her belt. She's up and out of her chair with her bag before Zayn even gathers up the courage to stand-up, just praying that someone will tell him that he is a good fit for this place.

He and Jesy walk down the cramped aisle of the shuttle hand in hand before breaking out into the sunlight of a perfectly clear San Francisco spring day.


	2. Hello Roomie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The introduction of Zayn's roommate comes so far into the trial period Zayn didn't think he'd even get one.

It’s been three weeks since that fateful shuttle ride to San Francisco and Zayn thinks that Starfleet’s whole ‘find yourself’ schtick is a load of crock. If he wanted to be broody and friendless, he could have just stayed at home. Instead, highschool memories of Friday nights spent alone and sitting alone in the cafeteria are haunting Zayn like he’s decided to boldly go into the past to relive the worst years of his life.

Even his roommate in residence has yet to make an appearance. Despite the fact that the incoming class is already half-way through the testing period, the other bed in Zayn’s room remains stubbornly empty. Does he even get a roommate? Zayn certainly appreciates solitude, but it would be nice to have someone to complain with when PT crosses the line between ‘pushing you to your limits’ and ‘we’re trying to kill you’.

Zayn has to focus as the treadmill he’s running on speeds up again, sweat pouring from his forehead while his t-shirt sticks uncomfortably to his back. The moan from the rest of the cadets is audible enough that their training instructor tells them to button their lips and focus on breathing. Zayn would be thrilled if at this point he fell off the back of the thing and had to go to the medical building. Nearly a quarter of the cadets have already dropped out of the program, and Zayn would too but that would make all of this running pointless. If Zayn is going to suffer through the kind of physical agony that the last three weeks have been, he’s going to at least try to make it to becoming an actual cadet.

The blond cadet next to him is wheezing in a painful manner, and every once in awhile Zayn hears cursing under his breath. With a face redder than an engineering uniform, he seems to be in even worse shape than Zayn is at the moment, but he’s going for it. Though when the instructor increases the elevation again, Zayn feels he’s found a kindred spirit when “feck the fecking feckers” slips out of the guy’s mouth. From there, it’s all Zayn can do to stay on his treadmill. If he does fall off, he’s not sure he’d make it to Medical alive.  
___

The door to Zayn’s room feels amazing where his head presses against it. He supposes he could stand up and actually input his code, but the floor is extremely comfortable and he can use the door as a makeshift ice pack. After the five hour long session at the gym, the trip across campus had been a struggle, with every bench and soft piece of grass looking like an inviting spot to lie down and have a nap. Zayn’s pretty proud of the fact that he’d managed to stumble his way to his residence, but the petrol in his tank had run out as soon as he’d hit the landing for his floor, forcing him to crawl his way to his door.

Zayn doesn’t want to think about how awful he probably looks right now. He just wants to be alone to brood with only the quiet hallway as company.

This is, of course, when the door to his room slides open; squeaking across Zayn’s sweaty face before leaving him to slide down the doorjamb sans structural support. The new position is more uncomfortable than his last one, and he should probably be feeling embarrassment about the indignity of what had just occurred, but he’d left all human emotion behind during the last desperate mile on the treadmill. He’s therefore left looking at a pair of naked feet as his mind tries to process whether movement is necessary at this point.

“Thought it was my pizza but apparently they deliver models now. I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or aroused,” Zayn groans clawing his way into the tiny metre by metre hallway in order to avoid getting crushed by the door. He doesn’t have time to think about why there is a strange man in his room, he just wants his bed.

“Okay… I’m gonna’ go with daroused and leave it at that,” Zayn doesn’t really care where he leaves it, just strips off his shirt and shoes, ignores the disaster area where his roommate’s bed is, ignores how disgusting it is to fall asleep without shower (a small part of him cries but he shuts it up by thinking about how much effort goes into even making it to the washroom), ignores his roommate’s quips about ‘come here often?’ and falls as far into sleep as he can possibly manage.  
_____

The one act of mercy that Starfleet gives is that week four is when flight sims are introduced to the program, so the cadets are given a blissful two days off. For the first time in weeks, Zayn is finally allowed to sleep past 6am. If Zayn were in his right mind, he would tell himself to not fuck up his sleep schedule and wake-up at an early hour, seven or eight.

He wakes up at 2:30 in the afternoon.

He’s itchy and disgusting and Zayn has never been so desperate for a shower in his life, but he also wants to stay in bed until his body stops aching. This leads to one long huff as Zayn tries to make such an important decision with minimal brain power.

The fact that there is someone currently in the shower should make Zayn’s decision to stay in bed easier, but he needs to burn the sweaty sheets that he fell asleep on; which means he has to get up.

The agony that Zayn feels in his muscles should have gone away within the first week of training, but Zayn’s thighs have never hurt as much as they do now. It’s a struggle to even sit up, and pulling the sheets off his bed is one long cringe. He’s about halfway through the process when it suddenly clicks that there is someone in the shower.

Someone in the shower, stuff everywhere, the pair of bare feet he only half remembers.

Shit. Zayn’s roommate is finally here, three weeks into the trial session and Zayn had fucked up their introduction by being basically comatose. He’d wanted to be a really cool roommate, had even planned how the conversation would go, but he’d been so busy trying not to pass out on the floor that he hadn’t even said a word to the guy. Zayn sits down hard on his unmade bunk, annoyed at himself for not at least trying a basic introduction. It’s too late to go back though, all Zayn can do is be grateful that he only needs to stuff his sheets into the garment processor instead of having to complete the (thankfully now defunct) job of actually laundering them, remake his bed, and pray his roommate will be kind enough for a second chance.

By the time new roommate appears out of the washroom, Zayn has the bed made and is in the midst of shoving a double layer of socks off his feet. He freezes, hoping through sheer will that the guy won’t remember what happened.

“Soooo… should I ask about last night then?” Luck is not on Zayn’s side.

“Uh, sorry about that mate, I had a rough time at PT?” Zayn will use the power of his face if he has to in order to get the guy to give him a chance at another introduction. He’s been told it’s very potent, and he needs to make sure this relationship works if Zayn is going to be living here with him. what if he doesn’t understand Zayn’s need for solitude while also needing cuddles at all times?

“Woah there, no need to pull out model face, mate. I’m just having a laugh, no need to get dramatic,” he saunters toward his chest of drawers, disproportionately out of sorts considering he’d gotten in just last night.

“I didn’t think I was particularly dramatic…” Roommate waves a hand at him, pulling out a pair of pants and trousers.

“I meant more along the lines of you putting away your,” his face twists in concentration “smoulder?” He turns to face Zayn, his eyes narrowed and his lips exaggeratedly pouted.

“Definitely a smoulder. That feels like a smoulder,” a shirt is thrown onto the bed alongside other clothes and a pair of, bizarrely enough, braces. He looks about ready to drop his towel, so Zayn starts shucking off his own trousers, haphazardly grabbing his own towel from the hook by the window.

“S’what’s your name anyway model boy?” It’s a good thing Louis is talking because Zayn feels like he’s lost all his words since waking-up. He just needs to get to the shower without falling on his face or further isolating himself.

“M’name’s Zayn, Zayn Malik” Head down Zayn, eye on the prize, get ready to step into the washroom.

“Well Zayn Malik, I am Louis ‘The Tommo’ Tomlinson. The Rogue to many, Thief to some, Jack of all Trades, master of none.” Zayn has to take a second to realise that Louis’ gone and attached his braces attached to his towel, his thumbs carelessly wound around them as though this is a regular occurrence. Zayn can only blink at Louis’ wide stance, as though the man’s already the captain of his own starship and ready to take on the world.

Then one of the braces snaps off and Louis’ towel is suddenly yanked up courtesy of elasticity and a sudden drop in tension. A dramatic yelp is the only thing that keeps Zayn from seeing his roommate in all his glory, as it makes Zayn stumble back in surprise, barely noticing he’s stepped into the washroom as the door swooshes shut on Louis cursing out his clothing choices.

Things are looking up. At least now they’re even for embarrassing introductions.


End file.
